


Cough Syrup

by mulderbaby



Series: Fictober 2020 [9]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s04e20 Small Potatoes, F/M, Fox Mulder Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Fox Mulder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27139429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mulderbaby/pseuds/mulderbaby
Summary: Fictober Day 18Prompt: “You don’t see it?”
Relationships: Fox Mulder & Dana Scully, Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Series: Fictober 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980989
Kudos: 36





	Cough Syrup

Scully paces back and forth outside the door to Apartment 42, her head spinning and heart racing as she runs through the script of what she is going to say to him if and when he opens it.

The humiliation she’d felt earlier when Mulder had caught her about to submit to the romantic persuasions of none other than Eddie Van Blundt, had now morphed into a strange sort of anger, a frustration directed at herself, at Van Blundt, an anger that rose from a protectiveness of her partner and his sensitivities. Sensitivities which made him timid and anxious when thrown into situations where his faith in himself as a viable partner, as a potential lover, was compromised.

Scully had long resisted the temptation of having him all to herself in that way. In the time that she’d known him, he’d tested her resolve day in and day out. She’d been with her share of romantic partners, but none of them had ever made her feel the way Mulder did, even considering that they were not romantically involved.

None of them had a gaze like his, a gaze that could send shivers down her spine while simultaneously burning her to her core.

None of them had a face like his, so soft to the touch, handsome and gentle and masking behind it the emotional scars of so many past horrors which he’d fought tirelessly and steadfastly to emerge from a stronger man as opposed to a weaker one.

None of them had a touch like his, so subtle yet so overwhelming in even the slightest of brushes or grazes. A touch which she has always sought first in her moments of darkness, her moments of longing for a comforting embrace.

None of them had a mind like his, the most beautiful and curious of minds she’d ever known. A mind which she was now tasked with healing from the trauma of all his past failures and shortcomings in his romantic relationships. Relationships in which he had been manipulated emotionally and physically, made to question his worth as a lover and as a man.

He hadn’t spoken to her all that much of these fears of his, fears that he could never love or be loved by a woman, or by anyone, for that matter. But she’d like to think that after all this time she knew him well enough to understand where his trepidations arose from. By the way he saw every compliment as an attempt to trick him or hurt him. By the way he cowered like a kicked animal with the slightest raise of her voice.

Now more than ever before, she is filled with anger at those who had hurt him in the past, every woman who ever pointed a harmful finger in his direction, but even more so, at those who had hurt him in the past, herself included. Mulder would never say it. Never burden her with guilt of knowing that her actions, or lack of actions, had allowed him to sink further into this hole of self-deprecation, this dark place where he had buried himself in the depths of his own self-pity.

But she knows full well that she was at least partially complicit in the effect that the events of the last evening have undoubtedly had on him. The difference is, she is determined to heal these wounds which she has inflicted upon him, rather than leave them exposed, prone to the most devastating of infections.

She knows he is in there. He is in there sulking away on his couch, probably having already finished multiple bottles of Shiner Bock, some shitty porno in the VCR. She knows that if she continues to knock enough, he will eventually abandon his stubbornness and come to the door.

“I don’t imagine you need to be told this Mulder, but you’re not a loser.”  
That was all she could say to him? She could see the insecurity and sadness welled up in his soft green eyes and all she could do was tell him that he wasn’t a loser? It had opened up the perfect opportunity for him to sting her with those last words he spoke to her.

“Yeah. But I’m no Eddie Van Blundt either, am I?”  
If ever there was a doubt in her mind as to the way he felt about her, that interaction down at the station alone was enough to make her kick herself for ever having a doubt. She’d held his precious heart in her hands, and broken it just like the others. But not all that is broken is beyond repair.

“Mulder, I know you’re in there.” She calls from beyond the door, circling anxiously, waiting for him to let her in. She chews at her thumb aimlessly, a habit she’d given up years ago, tapping her foot as she took deep breaths in an attempt to recollect herself.

“Mulder?”

Her impatience is simmering now, and she decides she would bust down his door if that’s what it would take to be able to hold him in her arms and comfort him the way he’d done for her so many times now. She owes it to him to find her way into that apartment and let him know exactly how it is she feels about him.

Her eyes dart down to the door handle as it turns slowly, and then back up into those of the man who now stood before her. The look on his face made her want to cry. He looks upon her with such hurt, his eyes somber and his posture that of someone who had long since given up on maintaining a positive image of himself. His hand pressed against the doorframe, indicating to her that he wasn’t just going to let her in. His eyes bore into her, waiting for an explanation as to why she had bothered to show up here.

She hates herself for it, but she is immediately distracted by the way his gray t shirt clung to him in all the right places, the bicep he flexes unintentionally as he prevents her from entering.

“Sorry, Eddie Van Blundt isn’t in tonight.” He retorts and she swallows hard, blinking back angry tears that she knows are undoubtedly brewing.

“I’m here to see Fox Mulder. Tall, dark haired, emerald eyed, ridiculously handsome son of a bitch. Maybe you’ve seen him.”

She watches his adam’s apple bob in his throat as the resentment in his eyes is replaced with a soft transparency that is so him. A tenderness that could only emulate from her Mulder.

“Speaking.” He says in a soft, choked whisper and she gives him a little smile at his acknowledgment of himself as a ridiculously handsome son of a bitch.

“May I come in?”

He lowers his arm, stepping aside to make way for her, closing the door behind them as he prods past her and back to the couch. She examines their surroundings, but there is no sign of either empty bottles of Shiner Bock, or a shitty porno in the VCR. Hands in his lap, Mulder stares blankly at the television. She takes one last look around before sitting next to him on the couch.

“Did you come here to apologize?”

His voice is monotonous, painfully so. She wants to shut him up, climb onto his lap and kiss him senseless, run her fingers through those luscious brunette locks of his, make him understand that he is not just lovable, but impossible not to love.

She loves him so much she can hardly stand it. Wants to be loved by him so much she can hardly stand it.

“No.”

He looks surprised by her answer, leaning towards her slightly causing his arm to press against hers and she looks up at him.

“Mulder, I can’t apologize for what I did.” She shakes her head. “Only for what I didn’t know.”

She reaches up, brushing her fingers against his cheek before trailing them down to his jaw. It is obvious now, as she looks into his eyes, that he had been crying for some time since she’d last seen him.

What she wouldn’t do to take away his pain.  
She feels him press his cheek into the palm of her hand, looking at her like a lost puppy, and watches as a single tear falls down his cheek and onto her skin. She wants to hold him to her chest, stroke his soft hair and press gentle kisses all over his face until he can no longer remember what it’s like to feel anything less than adored completely and wholeheartedly, even if only by her.

Maybe, she thinks, just maybe, that will be enough.

“Maybe he’s right, Scully. Maybe I am a loser.”

She blinks quickly as tears threaten to escape her, shaking her head at him in disbelief that he could ever feel that way.

“No. No, Mulder.”

But isn’t this what happened last time? Telling him he’s not a loser will not solve anything. Won’t make him realize that it’s him she wants to be with, him she loves enough to let into her apartment with a bottle of cheap wine at an ungodly hour, him, the only person she would ever share such intimate, personal stories with, him she wants to crawl on top of her and kiss her before making love to her until the sun came up. No, that won’t solve anything at all. A spoon of cough syrup is not the proper medication for his broken heart. Telling him what he already knows, however deep down, will not relieve the ache in his chest, nor will it cure him of his obliviousness to the way she loves him so unwaveringly.

“Mulder..” she breathes, her voice shaking. “Oh, Mulder..” She purrs, pulling herself up onto her knees, pushing his hair back with her fingers before swinging her leg over his so that she could straddle him.

“Scully..” he murmurs, awestruck by the feeling of her body pressed against his like this. So strikingly different from the way it felt when other women had done it in the past. This was not an act of seduction or manipulation. No, this was an act born of a longing for closeness, for intimate contact. The realization makes him shudder as his hands fall gently to her small waist, his thumbs stroking the fabric of her top as he looks up at her in anticipation.

“You don’t see it, do you?” She almost laughs to herself as she watches him put the pieces together devastatingly slowly. She blinks back a sea of tears, tears of relief, of desperation, of all sorts of feelings she could never express to him in words.

“I’m not quite sure how you expect me to see anything straight right now, Scully..”

She did laugh now, a little giggle that gives him butterflies in his stomach as he gives her a genuine but weary little smile.

“Mulder,” she sighs as her fingers weave through the back of his hair, stroking gently as her other hand comes to rest upon his cheek.

“The only reason I let Eddie Van Blundt into my apartment is because he was you.” She uses the pad of her thumb to massage his jaw and his eyes flicker up at her. “Don’t you realize that?”

He glances off to the side for a second, processing, and then back at her.

“Scully, I-”

“Just listen, Mulder. Listen to me when I say what I’m about to say to you, okay?”

“Okay.” He nods she smiles gratefully, pressing her thumb against his chin affectionately.

“I, Dana Katherine Scully, spent a romantic evening with Eddie Van Blundt.” She sighs, making her regret evident in her voice and she swears she sees the corner of his mouth twitch up into a little smile.

“But only because this Eddie Van Blundt was disguised indistinguishably from my partner, Fox William Mulder. My very charming, very smart, and very very handsome Mulder, who I have been waiting to show up at my apartment late on a Friday night with a cheap bottle of wine for a very long time now. Four years, actually.”

Mulder blushes fiercely, pressing his face into her neck shyly, unable to help feeling just a little bit embarrassed as she recounts her version of events from the prior evening. She just smiles, petting his hair soothingly and rubbing a gentle hand over his side.

“I’m a moron.” He murmurs before pulling back to look at her, that little twinkle in his eyes which she’d come to cherish every time it was directed at her.

“No you’re not, Mulder. You’re not a moron, and you’re not a loser.” She takes his face in her hands, giving him a sympathetic smile. “But you already know that.” She touches the crazy curl of hair that hangs in front of his face before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Tell me something I don’t know then, Scully.” He teases and she gives him a tender look in return.

“You are so lovable, Mulder.” Her voice quivers slightly as her hands slip down to his shoulders, rubbing them soothingly. “Do you have any idea, how lovable you are?”

His eyes glisten with tears which waste no time streaming down his cheeks. He is completely winded, taken aback by the words she has just spoken to him. Words no woman in his life, no person in his life have ever spoken to him before, let alone gone to such great lengths to make him understand the truth within them.

“Mulder..” she chokes out in something between a laugh and a sob as she cradles his face in her hands once more, leaning in to press her forehead to his, one of the most intimate gestures he’s ever had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of.

“You are the most lovable man I’ve ever known.”

She kisses between his brows and feels him pull her closer, hands splayed across the small of her back. Her words, her touch, earning a look of hope, of revelation from him that she’d been praying for, for so long now. Her heart floods with joy and she beams at him as one of his hands reaches up to brush away tears from her face she hadn’t even realized were falling.

“I hate that you don’t see that, Mulder. I hate it so much.”

He looks at her tenderly, stroking the pad of his thumb over her cheek.

“I hate it because it’s all I see every time I look at you, damn it.” She sniffles, bringing her hands to her face to rub her eyes but Mulder catches them in his own, giving them a gentle squeeze. “My Mulder...”

Her eyes fall to his lips for a moment, plump and pink and soft, begging to feel her own against them. He watches those eyes, looking upon him as though he was the center of the universe, of her universe. Watches them as they make their way from his mouth back up to his own adoring gaze.

“Open my eyes, Scully.”

Before he can say anything further, her mouth is on his and it was pure heaven. The perfect culmination of tenderness, of passion, of a love which they’d refrained from sharing with one another for so long now. Dark and light. Fire and ice. But above all of that, him and her.  
“Mulder..” she hums against his lips, pressing herself against him further as his fingertips leave a smoldering trail along her thighs until they are pushing up the hem of her skirt. His thumbs knead the warm inner skin of them, his lips latching onto her neck as she breaks the kiss to catch her breath.

“Hey Scully?” He murmurs.

“Uh huh?” She breathes heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly against his own.

“Next Friday night, when I show up at your apartment at an ungodly hour.. I’m gonna bring some fancy ass wine. None of that cheapo cough syrup.” He says smugly, his mouth making its way back up to her lips which are swollen from his kiss as a giggle escapes from her.

“Mulder..” she purrs, pressing a teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, Scully?”

“I don’t care what kind of wine you bring, as long as our night ends just like this.”

And with that, their lips meet again in the most beautiful harmony, music to their minds as he rises from the couch, hoisting her up into his arms and carrying her into his bedroom for what would be the first of many nights just like this.

•••


End file.
